Page 56 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Rose understands how serious this is,” Maeve says. “You have no idea how hard she’s taken?—”
“Spare me.” Cressida strides to the door. “I’ll make my own judgements about her character.”
At that exact moment, Maeve’s outline flickers, and I grimace as I realise Rose’s concentration has failed. Not that it matters much. Maeve has achieved something rare—a promise of mentorship from one of the most formidable minor royals.
But will it last? When I tried to get Annis to teach Rose, I thought that her creepiness might perturb my gentle mate. Creepiness is the least of Cressida’s problems. She’s infamously blunt and hard on her soldiers, and I can’t imagine she’ll make things much easier on Rose.
For all that Caed and Prae are arguing in favour of this, Rose is soft and kind. Hardly a warrior ready to be pushed through gruelling training until her body and mind are on the verge of breaking, and I… I would rather never see her pushed to that point.
Worse still, Cressida and Lore were lovers for decades, though that all stopped when Cressida found her first mate. Although fae understand that relationships outside of mating happen, and are never guaranteed to be permanent, emotions are messy things.
Maeve disappears entirely before she can say goodbye, and Cressida rolls her eyes. “Her focus clearly needs work.”
Eighteen
Rhoswyn
It turns out what I thought Lore meant by fun was wrong.
I half thought he was dragging me away from the war room with the aim of finding a private corner to fuck me in, but he tugs me through the palace corridors with a grin on his face instead.
“Redcap,” Jaro growls. “Slow down.”
“Why?” he replies, pulling me in for a quick kiss. “The best view in all of Illidwen awaits! You’re lucky I’m letting you crash such an excellent date.”
Whatever Jaro might’ve said in response is lost as Lore’s hat transforms into a pair of scarlet earmuffs, protecting my ears from the brisk autumn wind as we emerge out of the wood-panelled corridor and onto a terrace that overlooks…
“Oh my Goddess,” I whisper, staring across a sea of golden fire.
Like Lore’s home, the Court of Blades, Illidwen is a city built within the trees. And the palace is the largest of them all. Far below, I can make out other fae on nearby balconies enjoying thequiet night beneath glowing paper lanterns, but anything farther away is hidden beneath a rippling dark carpet of autumn leaves.
“Wow,” Bree breathes, echoing my thoughts. “This is…”
“Shut up,” Lore says. “I’m waiting for Rose to get so awed that she kisses me.”
I half chuckle, my hand flitting to his collar to drag him down towards me. “I love you, you crazy idiot.”
The words slip out, and I bury my embarrassment in the kiss—or I would, but Lore has other ideas. He breaks the contact after only a second and starts blinking around erratically.
“She looveesss me! She loves me. She said it first! Nicnevin Rhoswyn said it to the redcap first!”
I have to smother my smile as I glance at the other two, quietly making sure they’re not upset that I said the words to Lore before them. To my relief, rather than the jealousy or judgement I feared, they wear matching expressions of amused delight.
“Come on!” Lore says. “This way. There’s so much to see before the dullahan escapes the boring meeting and makes us do official Nicnevin bullshit.”
Without waiting for anyone to agree, he pulls me back inside, along winding rounded corridors and across sculpted bridges to marketplaces and beyond. I wonder at first if they’ll tell me to glamour myself like I did in Elfhame, but no one suggests it. It’s a little nerve-wracking, being under the scrutiny of hundreds of fae, but weirdly enough, they seem to take one look at Lore and decide they have other places to be.
Through it all my Guard are there, buying me brightly coloured, honey-roasted nuts from a vendor when the smell makes my stomach rumble. And of course, the entire time, Lore crows so loudly about my declaration of love that my cheeks burn continuously. The entire court must’ve heard by the time we return to the palace.
“You know,” he says, casually blinking so he’s sitting on the shoulders of one of the palace guards outside the room that Cressida has had made up for us. “My pet loves me.”
I chuckle at the guard’s terrified wide eyes as he tries to figure out what to do and walk past the two of them and into the room that Jaro is already sweeping for intruders.
“She told me first, before even the wolfie!” Lore continues from behind me as I make a beeline for the beautiful balcony overlooking the twilight city. “I was certain that she was going to say it to him first?—”
“Actually,” a cool voice interrupts, as I spin on the spot to find Drystan leaning against the wall behind me. “She said it to me first, in Siabetha.”
Could my face get any hotter? I turn away, unwilling to see the looks on the others’ faces. A grunt, followed by a curse and then a hiss of pain, reaches my ears, but I refuse to get involved.
